Illustration by Matilde Sazio
A single voice sings out with the tweet of birds in the background. A little bit choir like, a lot Bellowhead like. A choir song for nature. For me, I thought of The Lord of The Rings, and the shire. Or Cadfael and canal residers, Rosie and Jim. With no worries about things like mortgages or commutes. Indeed, I know Cadfael dealt with corruption, but he also had an inner calm, that must have come with the peace he had with himself/job. The beginning of the album certainly makes God’s Little Eskimo reside in a nice wood-burning stove dwelling house in the early 1800s, pre industrial revolution. He would have a furlong or two of land and young Tess of The d’Urbervilles type figure as his wife.
Illustration by Daria Hlazatova
However, after searching for God’s Little Eskimo, aka Johnny’s postcard he had sent with his CD, the music changed almost on cue. The picture on the postcard was of a vampire looking out to the mid distance, with his dark haired victim, staring as if dead, into the infinite darkness. His clawed hands wrapped around her head, it was scary – in that 70s horror movie way. And the music? Well, it was like Frankenstein’s. In the forest, miserable and alone, when he turns from ‘newborn’, to killer. It’s dramatic, humming, premeditated and controlled – yet obviously full of anguish.
Illustration by Fritha Strickland
Then we have another change and God’s Little Eskimo has gone travelling. To America. He still sounds a bit dark (see: If I were to bury you), yet we have some electric guitars. We’re in 70s orange, glowed USA, with a touch of 90s Doves. It’s good and the repeating guitar notes reflect the voices ‘ahhing, my love’ to splendid effect.
Illustration by Daria Hlazatova
Moving on, Breaking Waves At Night, has an almost Spanish air to it, but still retains Johnny’s dramatic, folky voice. Perfect for a Twilight film. In contrast, In The Gloaming Woods is upbeat, happy and almost jump inducing. Maybe a happier Twilight bit, and with them in England. And of course gloaming means ‘twilight: dusk’. Limb By Limb is a mersmerising magician, a bit of a 30s black and white horror. The piano notes drawing her in… Finally Rooks is a pleasant end, ‘The rooks have returned and the Spring is coming on”. It has some lovely instrumental in the middle. The happy ending to the play and journey… although of course, rooks, like crows, do signify death according to folklore. Tess of The d’Urbervilles, Thomas Hardy: ‘”Hoosh! Just be off, sir, or I’ll twist your neck! said the dairyman with some irritation, turning to the bird and driving him away. And to his wife as they went indoors: “Now to think o’ that – just to-day! I’ve not heard his crow of an afternoon all the year afore.” Ominous.
Illustration by Fritha Strickland
I asked Johnny a couple of questions:
Why the name, I know you’re called Johnny Eskimo, but could you elaborate?
The “God’s Little Eskimo” name is actually a misheard quote from the 80s movie Heathers (with Winona Ryder / Christian Slater etc). I thought that a character in the film was referred to at their funeral as “God’s little eskimo”. I wouldn’t say the film itself was a huge influence, but for some reason the phrase stuck with me so I ended up choosing it as my name . When I watched it again more recently, I realised they actually get described as ”Sherwood’s little eskimo” – not quite the same, but I much prefer my mis-remembered version.
Err, do you like horror films perchance?
I do like horror films yes – how did you guess?? I’m especially fond of older British psychological horrors, like Don’t Look Now, Seance On A Wet Afternoon and The Innocents, and I always liked scaring myself with ghost stories as a child. They definitely play some part in my inspiration, along with an interest in nature (particularly birds) and a fondness for woodlands and the sea. I suppose overall what I’m trying to convey in the songs is a sense of how much of the world around us remains uncanny and mysterious, and both how frightening and beautiful that can be (if that doesn’t sound too pretentious).
(No). God’s Little Eskimo, Said The Owl To The Mouse is out now, on Art Scare Records. Have a listen, go explore.
Tags:
album, Bellowhead, Cadfael, Christian Slater, Daria Hlazatova, Don't Look Now, doves, folk, Frankenstein, Fritha Strickland, God's Little Eskimo, gothic, Heathers, Helen Martin, Horror, Horror Films, Mary Shelley, Matilde Sazio, music, Rosie and Jim, Seance on a Wet Afternoon, Tess of the D'Urbervilles, The innocents, The Lord of the Rings, Thomas Hardy, twilight, Winona Ryder
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